Pacific Crest Trail Day 4: Pizza and Power Hiking

PCT Day 4 — April 30, 2025
Scissors Crossing to San Felipe Hills
Turkey Beach Camp to Soggy Sandwich Camp
PCT miles: 14.9 miles
Total miles: 92 miles
Elevation change: 2510ft gain, 1033ft loss

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It was the perfect night, except that this new pad of mine sleeps like concrete, even on the soft sand. Oh well, I’ll either get used to it or not. I lay on my back, the least uncomfortable position, and watched the horizon brighten. A planet blazed in the grey sky, which must have been a good omen, because why not? Rolling over uncomfortably, I pushed up to sitting. What a magical morning.

My feet started sweating the instant the sun hit me, so I packed up and moved to the shaded underpass. I was in no rush today, but definitely still wanted to stay out of the sun as much as possible. I finished my bag of BBQ Lays and ate an orange from a box — the breakfast of champions. And how strange to eat fruit that I found under a bridge. What a life this is.

Hitching a ride to Julian was as easy as it had been ten years ago. I was still brushing my teeth when a couple added me to their carpool less than ten minutes after first thumb. They were friendly, veteran ride-givers, and only slightly baked. Safely deposited at the gas station, I wandered the short distance into the sleepy town.

None of the businesses I needed were open at 8am, so I naturally drifted to the lawn chairs of the Purple Owl Cafe. The vegan treats were good, the chair comfy, and the thru-hiker riffraff absent. It was a wonderful place to chill for a few hours. Quiet and relaxed, the modern comforts were a world away from the harshness of trail. It would have been nice to visit with friends like I had in 2015, awing them with my gushing blisters, but this was a rocking alternative.

When I stepped back onto main street, the hikers were out in full force. Too many backpacks to count. They congregated in intimidating groups outside each place I needed to visit, and it was strange to feel like an outsider despite our shared questionable life choices. I scurried around the small historic district, gathering sunscreen, bars, and a dinner sandwich. Then I dove in headfirst, joining a big group of loud hikers on the benches outside the brewery. The Mexican place was closed, so a burrito was out, leaving pizza as the next best choice. Socializing seemed like a fair price to pay.

The group was friendly, but my pizza was more than I could handle. Doing my best, I munched through 3/4 of the 16″ pie before getting disgusted with myself. Fortunately, a few curious companions were willing to brave the vegan cheese. All gone. Friends weren’t so bad after all.

With all of my town goals achieved and feeling uncomfortably full, I packed up and hiked to the edge of town. It took 20 minutes and a lot of rejection to land a ride this time, but all it takes is one. By 2:15pm, I was back under the bridge, packing away my sandwich and filling in the gaps left in my stomach with the elixir of the gods, Diet Coke. At 2:30pm, I left the shade to brave the climb ahead and the heat of the day, careful to start slow with my belly so full.

A mighty wind kept the temperature reasonable, which was great because the exposure was real. Switchbacking high into the San Felipe hills, this south-facing slope was even more sunscorched than yesterday’s desert. Barrel cactus? Where did you come from? Ocotillo twiddled their long, flowering fingers like freeze-dried octopus. Jumping cholla waited at each bend to hitch a ride. The narrow trail was good enough to safely navigate all the points and cliffs, but not by much.

A mile in, I looked down to see another hiker charging a few switchbacks below. Five minutes later, he was still there, maybe even closing the gap. Hmmm, maybe I’ve digested enough to kick it into gear. I didn’t know who this guy was, but I accepted the challenge of staying ahead. Not that I’m particularly competitive or passionate about being the fastest (I’m not the fastest), but I was feeling good after the morning off in town and wanted to see what I could do. Riding the smooth trail as it squiggled higher, the distance between stayed steady, both pleasing and confusing me.

Then I sat down to empty my shoes and transfer some water. He was right there! He introduced himself as Punisher and said he was hiking the border-to-border calendar year triple crown. If that sounds confusing, it kind of is, but in essence, this guy planned to walk across the country three times in 2025 and was already maybe 4,000-ish miles into his journey. That explained it, but this information also brought up more questions than it answered. I let him off easy, figuring that he was tired of answering questions, but almost immediately regretted not having my shoes on to chase him. This was too good to pass up. I was intrigued.

Fortunately, a camp of old dudes slowed him down enough for me to catch up. “Yah yah! C’mon, Punisher. Miles to hike!” I clicked my poles at him, breaking the interrogation and prompting him forward.

We settled into a fast yet sustainable pace and an even more sustainable conversation. There was much gossip to catch up on, and the next ten miles flew by in a blur. Frantic at first, thinking that we wouldn’t hike together for long, it eventually became clear that we were joined at least until the water cache several miles ahead. The conversation settled in, finding a more relaxed cadence, leaving room for space and consideration. We covered a lot, and I was quietly grateful to hear his story, while also careful not to overstay my welcome. However, as he assured me, it was nice for him to hike with someone for a while. As isolated as I have sometimes felt out here, it must have been more so for him. 51 miles on day 1, 36 miles already today, including a visit to town, chances for socialization were fleeting. I liked to think that I could maybe stick with him for a day or two, but I would almost surely explode if I tried.

Instead, I wished him well with one final fist bump. It was almost 8pm, and night was almost upon us. We’d seen the shadows lengthen across the desert valley below, pushed through head-high scrub, traversed a multitude of small canyons, and shared a few good stories and miles. When we’d fielded questions from the folks camped at the water cache, it almost felt like we’d been a single badass unit. But I was just moonlighting, living vicariously for a brief moment, and in the moonlight, I said good luck before dropping my pack and claiming my home for the evening. As different as our individual adventures were, I thought it was pretty neat that they overlapped, even if just for a few hours. And as I ripped into my soggy sandwich, I was glad to be on my own path. Hiking 50 miles a day sounded cool, but I was tired enough after 15.